


Untrue

by Phoenix_Mary



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8548357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Mary/pseuds/Phoenix_Mary
Summary: Everything had been going so well since her return from England. It only takes one misstep for it all to fall apart.





	1. Chapter 1

“Jack.” He stormed out of the club holding onto his emotions by a thread. Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes, but she had embarrassed him enough. He would save himself that indignity, at least until he was home and there was whiskey to be had. He could hear the staccato of her heals as she hurried after him. He hastened his own steps, hoping to escape a confrontation. He couldn’t do this now, not when he was barely hanging on. What was there to say? He’d seen enough.

“Jack, wait.”

“Don’t, Phryne.” He didn’t turn around to face her. How often had this happened. How often had he been at home dreaming of her and she’d been in the arms of another man?

“It’s not what you think.” He whirled around

“How is that not what I think? I’ve seen you evade kisses. You allowed that kiss, you… you kissed back” he sputtered.

“It didn’t mean anything.” She said with a mulish look on her face.

“It does to me!” he wants to shake her. If it didn’t mean anything, then why did she do it. If she’d fallen in love with someone, he could have borne it. Probably not well, but he would have managed. But to do that, and then say it didn’t have any meaning…

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Fine… if she won’t leave. They’ll do this now. Mercifully the streets are empty, so there won’t be any more witnesses to his pathetic downfall. He tries to remember what side street his car is parked in. Did he already walk past it in his haste to get away?

“Overreacting? I love you. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t even remember when I didn’t. I never asked anything, Phryne,” and that part hurts so bad. He’d rather have spent his life loyally by her side as a friend than to briefly walk in paradise only to be cast out for an unknown crime. “The only thing I asked was that you don’t play with me. And you! You were the one to come to me and say you were ready to give this a try. Just you and me.” He lowers his voice again, he hadn’t realized he had screamed.

“Jack…”

“I’m not finished. You and me, Phryne. No one else” to his shame, his voice breaks. “You promised.”

“Jack.” Her hands reach out to him.

“Don’t” he steps away before she can touch him. He wants nothing more than to step into her arms and forget this night has ever happened. Pretend he never saw her in that man’s arms. If she touches him now, he will forgive her, at least for tonight. They’ll go home and they’ll make love and he’ll forget. And then he’ll spend every waking minute he’s not with her wondering if she’s in another’s arms. Still catering to her every whim because she has him so enthralled. Strumpets fool indeed. He can’t be that man. “We’re done.” His voice is thick. “I don’t want to ever see you again. And I mean it, Phryne. Don’t show up at my crime scenes. If you need the coppers, call someone else.”

“Jack” her face is ashen under the weak street lights. How dare she to look broken up about this.

“I love you” he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop. “I tried to give you everything. Why couldn’t that be enough Phryne? I take it all, the society functions where I get talked down on. _Phryne Fisher’s police man, how long do you think until the novelty of slumming it wears of?”_ he imitates the soprano of a gossiping society lady _._ “My peers, Phryne, losing all respect for me because I’m your _kept man_. Having to prove myself over and over again to them, that I don’t live in your pocket. My reputation, having people I respect and once upon a time respected me question my morals, my honour. I took all that on, because you promised to be mine.” She wants to interrupt, but he carries on straight over whatever it was that she wanted to say. “I ignore all the whispers that say I’m only one of many. Ignore the looks when you flirt with other men. Don’t stop you when you want to go dancing. I believed you when you said there would be no one else. I took you by your word and you made a fool of me.” Now that he’s started the words won’t stop coming. When she had come to him after England, ready to give them a try he’d thrown caution in the wind and went all in. Here they are, not even 6 months later, and everything that was said about them has come true.

“Please Jack.”

“We can’t be together. I will never be able to trust you again. Every time we’re apart I’d wonder if you were with someone else. I don’t want to live like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough.”

“It was just a little kiss.” She says helplessly.

“It’s a broken promise”

“So this is it?” Tears roll down her face, and he stamps on his urge to take his words back and comfort her.

“Goodbye Miss Fisher.” He can finally see his car. He walks away. Leaves his heart behind. Steps heavy, he concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other. He just has to make it home. A little bit further, and he’ll have made it to his car. He has no memories of the drive home. Has a sip of whiskey and promptly pours the rest of the glass away. Drinking whiskey is too much like sitting in her parlour. He lies down in bed, but sleep doesn’t come either. He can’t stop but thinking about the one time she had snuck into his room. He had felt like the top of the world then. The narrow bed that forced her to basically lie on top of him. The way they had made love in silence because the walls here are so thin. Her nails gorging deep groves into his flesh when she came, but her screams silent. Jack presses his fist against his burning eyes. The tightening in his loins is unmistakable. Seems like his cock hasn’t gotten the message yet. Loving her had made his life brighter, but being loved by her had touched parts of him he thought lost in the war. He feels sick. Jack Robinson you fool, he thinks viciously, how could you think you’d ever be enough for a woman like Phryne Fisher. She, who’d danced with French Presidents, and English Princes and American Filmstars. Where did he ever think him, a common copper, would fit. He’d been access to police resources and a novelty. Now that the latter had worn of, he would refuse to be the former. She could make a fool out of some other copper, he was done with her. If only it wasn’t hurting so much. If only he weren’t already yearning for the comfort of her arms. Furiously he punches his pillow. Why did he have to fall for her of all people. The tears come despite his best efforts. He cries like a child, the sobs making his whole body tremble.


	2. Chapter 2

It's the loud persistent knocking that pulls her from her fretful sleep. Sluggishly she frees herself from the twisted sheets and stumbles towards her bedroom door, grabbing her robe on the way. This better be a matter of life and death she thinks viciously as she checks the time. Today is day eight of her post-Jack life, and her eyes are gritty with lack of sleep and tears she refuses to let fall. That first morning after it had happened, and she had raved and ranted at his walking away from her so easily in her empty bedroom, she had allowed herself tears. Had cried for hours as she relived every smile and every caress, felt the Jack-shaped hole in her life keenly, the shame threatening to overwhelm her. When she had woken from her tear-induced exhaustion, she had pushed down any more tears. She didn’t deserve to cry, she had no one but herself to blame. Phryne comes down the stairs, where Mr. Butler is already at the door.

“Inspector Robinson, Miss.”

“Jack?”

“Miss Fisher.” He’s ignoring her butler completely as he staggers into her hall. She gives Mr. Butler a discrete nod, and after a moment the older man vanishes silently. She’s got this. Jack. At her door in the middle of the night. Hope surges through her for one blissful moment, but then she is forced to acknowledge his appearance and knows he’s not here to reconcile. His eyes are bloodshot, his tie crooked and he has stains on his shirt and waistcoat. She has to hold onto her robe to stop herself from reaching for him and comfort him. There is no comfort she can offer.

“What are you doing here Jack?”

“We” he roughly gestures between them “have things to discuss.”

“Surely it can wait until morning?”

“I want to discuss it now. Unless you’re entertaining?” the distaste is obvious. She deserved that, and worse. So she will listen to what he has to say, and bear his scorn. It can hardly be worse than what she’s been calling herself.

“In the parlour then.” She walks past him and catches the pungent smell of cheap alcohol. Sitting down, she watches him pace for a while. Hungrily she takes in his features. This week has been the longest they’ve been apart since her return from England. His cheekbones are sharper than they’ve been in months, a sign he had been neglecting eating. She hadn’t been very hungry either. He’s mumbling, but he’s yet to address her directly.

“What is it, Jack? It’s two in the morning, I would like to go back to sleep.” It sounds more hostile than she intended. She honestly just wants to get this over with. He had made it very clear that they cannot be fixed. Whatever he has to say, and she doubts it will be nice, he obviously has to get it of his chest. He collapses onto the chaise, looking smaller than she’d ever seen him.

“What’s wrong with me?” he whispers and her heart breaks for the man in front of her.

“Nothing, Jack. Absolutely nothing.” His laugh is hollow and she pulls back her hand from where she was reaching for him.

“Maybe I’d believe you more if you hadn’t felt the need to be with someone else when we were together. You know, Rosie was sleeping with Fletcher before we were divorced? And we were separated and I wasn’t a good husband to her, so. But you! I thought we were happy. I thought I was a good partner to you.”  He stares at her, forlorn.

“Oh Jack.” She sits next to him, taking his hands into hers. “I don’t know about what happened between you and Rosie, but what I did is not a reflection on you.”

“Then why couldn’t you love me?” answers get stuck in her throat. She can’t push them out past the painful lump blocking it. I do love you, she thinks, more than I have ever loved any man. I’m just not very good at it. “Why didn’t you keep your promise.” He’s crying and she doesn’t know what to do. The only time she had ever seen him anywhere close to this was that dreadful business when he thought her dead. Even then, she’d only heard unshed tears in his voice as he left her. Phryne knew his heart was fragile when they had started. Had he not told her so? She had taken what he had so freely offered her and crushed it into dust, like even his wife of 16 years hadn’t managed. Phryne doesn’t think she’ll ever forgive herself. Despite her best intentions, her demons had gotten the better out of her. He had asked for monogamy, and only that. Jack had never demanded promises from her, not of forever, not to change. Had only offered what he could and patiently waited while she had decided if that was something she wanted too. Had remained her friend, even when faced with her dalliances – Compton had not been her finest hour, in silent support. Being loved by Jack was intoxicating, and she had truly meant it when they had started this. As long as she was with him, there would be no one else.  Except that even Jack’s quiet steadfast kind of love occasionally felt like a cage. What does it say about her, that she can break a good man’s heart without a thought? 

“Wasn’t it satisfying for you? You could have told me. I know I don’t have the experience, but I would have learnt.” He pulls sharply at her hips and she lands in his lap. “Am I so unlovable? I know I’m not fun, but- ” Jack, oh Jack my love, I’m sorry. “Tell me what I did wrong!” Phryne bites her lip harshly to stop her tears from falling and tastes blood. This is not the time. Jack opens his mouth again. She presses a finger against his lips.

“You were wonderful Jack. There is nothing you could have done because you did nothing wrong. It was me. You were so great and I really thought I could do it, but then I got scared and angry because you made me feel all these things. I went out dancing to prove that I could, and I let that kiss happen to prove that you didn’t own me.” There are no words in the English language for how much she regrets what happened. “You see, there is nothing wrong with you. You’re a good man. I’m the one who’s broken.”

“I don’t believe that.” She smiles slightly. Even when faced with her worst flaws he is her biggest champion. She forces him to look at her. His eyes are cloudy with tears, lack of sleep and not a little alcohol

“You did nothing wrong. That we didn’t work is my fault, and my fault alone. Understood?” He grumbles, but finally indicates understanding. “It’s time for sleep.” He’s seeking her nearness even in heartbreak, and she’s weak with need for his forgiveness. So he needs to go to sleep before she takes even more from him. She now knows she cannot do monogamy despite her best intentions, not even for Jack Robinson. True, it had only been a short kiss with a stranger, but what about the next time she had to assert her independence or the time after that? No, it was better she had discovered her limits now. In time, he would recover. Someday far in the future they might even be friends again. And for herself, she’d do what she’s always done. Take a man to her bed for a night or two and then move on. After all, if their love didn’t hold enough power to make her stay true to him, then what chance did mere men have to keep her attention? For all the love in the world, Phryne thinks bitterly, they're incompatible on that one fundamental level that neither can compromise.

“Not tired.” He grumbles into the curve of her neck. “I’ll wake up and be alone. I’m always alone.” Phryne doesn’t answer him, just gets up and makes him lie down on the chaise. “Sleep now.”

“Don’t want to be alone” he mumbles. If only she had known her limits, then at least they’d still be friends.

“I know, my love. Go to sleep.” She runs her hand through his hair for the last time and watches his mouth curve into a smile. He’ll be gone before first light, she is certain, ashamed of the weakness that had brought him to her door tonight. Covering him with a blanket, she sits and watches him sleep. Maybe it’s time to leave Melbourne again. Here, the memory of them is haunting her at almost every street corner and there is the very real threat that their paths will cross. The town of her childhood has lost its charm, growing increasingly hostile to her heart. In a new town, with new friends. Friends she doesn’t have to explain to that she managed to sabotage their relationship. She angrily wipes away a tear. No crying Phryne Fisher, she tells herself sternly. Tears belong to the heart-broken, not the heartbreakers. It will be kinder to him too, to leave. If she stays here, she will only get herself in trouble and he’ll feel duty-bound to come to her aid. She had done the one thing she knew Jack would never be able to forgive and yet, remembering how Jack had embraced Rosie in her time of need, she knows that would she truly need him, he would be there for her. So she has to leave, because she won’t let herself rely on the man whose heart she broke, won’t abuse his love for her. She's strong, she's independent. In the grand scheme of things Jack had only been in her life for the blink of an eye. She had been fine before him, she would be fine again without him. Honestly. If she repeated it enough, it was bound to come true one day.  

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” pressing her lips to his forehead she wills the words to sink in. Taking a deep breath, finding his scent under the alcohol and memorizing it, she forces herself to walk away.

“You thought me fair and bright, when I am black as hell, dark as night.” She murmurs, paraphrasing Shakespeare. Looks back for one last time before closing the doors to her parlour.

It’s the last time she sees Jack. The next time their paths cross, the mask of Senior Detective Inspector Robinson is firmly in place and she doesn’t challenge him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments on chapter 1. I fear this isn't the ending anyone wanted, but here it is the only one that worked. I should have probably thought about the title more (but in my defense it was late and English isn't my first language). I hadn't considered that many people would interpret "Untrue" as "not what it seems" instead of the intended, if old-fashioned "not being true to someone"


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